rd him and rest my hands on
the edge of the breakfast bar. He gazes at me blankly.
“Christian, we’ve hardly been back a week. I ha一ve to go to work.”
“But—” He stops, and rakes his hand through his hair. Mrs. Jones walks
quietly out of the room. Discreet, Gail, discreet.
“I know we ha一ve a great deal to talk about. Perhaps if you’ve calmed down,
we can do it this evening.”
His mouth pops open with dismay. “Calmed down?” His voice is eerily soft.
I flush. “You know what I mean.”
“No, Anastasia, I don’t know what you mean.”
“I don’t want a fight. I was coming to ask you if I could take my car.”
“No. You can’t,” he snaps.
“Okay.” I acquiesce immediately.
He blinks. He was obviously expecting a fight. “Prescott will accompany you.”
His tone is slightly less belligerent. Dammit, not Prescott. I want to pout and
protest but decide against it. Surely now Jack has been caught we can cut
back on our security. I remember my mom’s “words of wisdom” talk the day
before my wedding. Ana, honey, you really ha一ve to choose your battles. It’ll
be the same with your kids when you ha一ve them. Well, at least he’s letting
me go to work.
“Okay,” I mutter. And because I don’t want to lea一ve him like this with so much
unresolved and so much tension between us, I step tentatively toward him.
He stiffens, his eyes widening, and for a 207 | P a g e
Fifty Shades Freed
moment he looks so vulnerable it pulls at some deep, dark place in my heart.
Oh, Christian, I’m so sorry. I kiss him chastely on the side of his mouth. He
closes his eyes as if relishing my touch.
“Don’t hate me,” I whisper.
He grabs my hand. “I don’t hate you.”.
“You ha一ven’t kissed me,” I whisper.
He eyes me suspiciously. “I know,” he mutters.
I’m desperate to ask him why, but I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
Abruptly he stands and grabs my face between his hands, and in a flash his
lips are hard on mine. I gasp with surprise, inadvertently granting his tongue
access. He takes full advantage, invading my mouth, claiming
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